


always wind up staying

by internetakeover (nymeriahale)



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF), Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Florida 2017, Fluff, M/M, lester family holiday
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-20
Updated: 2017-05-20
Packaged: 2018-11-02 20:51:56
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10952511
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nymeriahale/pseuds/internetakeover
Summary: Dan stands watching the sunset on what would have been his last day in America and couldn't be more glad of his decision to stay.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> title from Miami by Will Smith (i feel like maybe this choice doesn’t work for a fic set when they're about to leave miami but there’s a tennis fic link in there that makes it work great for me i promise! also titles suck.)
> 
> also posted on [tumblr](http://internetakeover.tumblr.com/post/160869145912/ok-dnp-are-killing-me-with-their-holiday-cuteness)

Dan takes a deep breath, closing his eyes. He focuses on the remaining warmth of the low sun, the distant noise of seagulls - alright, not that peaceful, but better than the screaming child he can just about hear under it. He’s alone for now, Phil, Martyn and Cornelia having gone back to the shore to check out the tourist shops and maybe buy ice creams. Waves are lapping at the rocks beneath him. The wind shifts his curls.

“Hi!” comes Phil’s exclamation from beside him, complete with a jab to his waist. “Got you ice cream,” he announces.

Dan tightens his closed eyes, sighs. “You ruined my moment,” he complains, turning to accept the ice cream, resisting the tug of a smile on his mouth.

“Sorry,” Phil whispers exaggeratedly, and Dan lets the smile through. “It did look like you were enjoying it,” Phil says in a more gentle tone, offering his phone to Dan with the screen showing a picture taken from behind him.

“Creeper,” Dan says lightly, knowing the fond twist his smile has taken will tell Phil all he really needs to know about Dan’s reaction.

“Pretty,” Phil smiles blindingly, mockingly, and Dan huffs, leaning over to knock into Phil’s hip.

“Peace,” he instructs, letting it sit for a second before realising - “Are Martyn and Cornelia coming?”

“Yeah, in a bit - Martyn spotted something he wanted on the way back,” Phil replies. “Now, peace.”

There’s a good opportunity for mocking and laughter in Phil mimicking Dan’s tone there, but Dan really had been enjoying the sunset so he just lets it sit. 

If they’d gone with their original plan Dan would’ve been flying home right now, would have missed this. He’s loved these last few days with Martyn and Cornelia, been so glad to spend some quality personal time with them in a situation more peaceful than the couple of days they’d managed to find on tour. He wouldn’t have been ready to say goodbye so soon.

“I’m glad you’re not going home,” Phil says, in a prime example of the fact of how ridiculously they are in sync.

“Me too,” Dan replies quietly. He kind of wants to put his arm around Phil for that, or at least just bump his foot into Phil’s trainers, but the footsteps that have just stopped behind them give him pause.

“Awww, us too!” comes the loud exclamation, complete with a forceful ruffle of his hair, and whatever sense of peace Dan had regained is quickly shattered. “We love you and miss you desperately when you’re not there!”

“Thanks, Martyn,” Dan says dryly, keeping his gaze fixed firmly on the horizon as Martyn comes into his field of vision.

“Like all good emotional truths, best delivered in a sarcastic tone,” Cornelia advises quietly, stepping up beside him.

Dan turns to face her, smiling fondly. “You’re my favourite,” he announces, huffing out a surprised breath when she quickly - and carefully, given that they’re both holding ice creams - engulfs him in a fierce hug.

“Honestly, mum and dad had started to think you just hated them,” Phil jokes, saving them from the cusp of a true emotional moment.

“Well….” Dan allows the statement to trail off leadingly.

“Like all good emotional truths-” Martyn begins, only to be cut off by Cornelia’s elbow. “Hey!”

“I mean - it’ll be great to see them, I can’t wait, I miss them every time I can’t be there,” Dan keeps the sarcasm heavy once again. Phil’s foot nudges against his own.

“Sap,” Martyn mutters, disguising it with a cough. Retaliation is left by mutual agreement, in favour of appreciating the last few moments of the setting sun.

“Poor suckers in England,” Cornelia muses. “They won’t get as much sun as we’ve seen this week in the whole month.”

“Losers,” Dan agrees. “Who would ever choose to be there when the Lester family vacation is an option?”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> a Eurovision snapshot in which i discover i am incapable of referring to Phil's parents by name while in his pov.

“Portugal,” Dan mutters under his breath. “Fucking Portugal.” He screws up his top five entry list and throws it at the wall, face lined with disgust.

“Portugal! Fucking Portugal!” Cornelia repeats, in an entirely different tone. “You all underestimated the strength of his preteniousness,” she crows. “You should’ve known better!”

“Language, children,” Phil’s mum says mildly.

“Sorry,” Dan and Cornelia apologise, as one. Phil shares an amused glance with Martyn, trades another with his dad, remembering the times the two of them had made the exact same joint apology after being overheard playing a videogame.

“It’s just...,” Dan trails off.

“Portugal.” Cornelia finishes for him with a nod. “A true victory for real music, authentic music, none of this overproduced trash,” she goes on earnestly.

“It’s Eurovision!” Dan splutters. “That’s the point of Eurovision, trashy, happy-” he cuts himself off, shaking his head. “Portugal. This is going to be like when Conchita won all over again, next year there’ll be fifty entries of people trying to do the same thing, just a million times more mediocre.”

“You loved Conchita,” Phil feels the need to point out.

“Well of course!” Dan exclaims. “She was actually good, amazing, it’s not her fault everyone else failed at following her lead. But this... this was boring as-” he glances quickly at Phil’s mum “-boring in the first place, can you imagine fifty even more mediocre versions?” he demands.

“I mean, I’m pretty sure there aren’t even fifty countries in qualifying for Eurovision,” Martyn says.

Dan shoots him a surprisingly vitriolic glare - if you don’t know him as well as Phil does, can’t see the edge of amusement flickering at his jawline where he’s trying to hold his face stable. 

“Oooh, well sor- _ry_ for trying to reduce your future suffering,” Martyn holds his hands up leaning back in his seat.

“Well I quite liked them,” Phil’s mum contributes. “I wouldn’t mind seeing more of that style in the competition, just to break things up.”

Dan’s gaze flickers to her and he pauses for a moment, considering. She blinks back at him innocently and that seems to decide Dan into simply hardening his glare. “For naps, maybe,” he says casually, leaning back in his chair and casually picking up his phone.

“Oh, _wrecked_ ,” Martyn cackles, and Dan’s jaw twitches tellingly once again. He’s tapping away at his phone screen - Phil can see he is actually writing a response to Bryony, who has had much the same reaction as Dan - but that flicker leaves no doubt as to where his attention truly lies.

“I can’t believe I thought Eurovision being in the afternoon might dampen the experience,” Phil sighs. 

“I mean, did it last year?” Martyn asks.

Dan makes brief eye contact with Phil. Eurovision last year hadn’t been quite the same, no, but that had had more to do with their bus driver than the show itself. It had been... fine, really. Just not quite the same. He hadn’t got it and had been consistently vocal about it - probably just thinking he was fitting in with their own mocking, but really... not. 

Cornelia saves them from having to answer. “Last year wasn’t as good, no,” she says. “And d’you know why? Because last year I didn’t win! A victory over disposable music!”

“Oh sure, lord it over those of us who enjoy the real, sparkly, queer pop of Eurovision, the _true_ meaning of the show, diluted with your boring ballads.” Dan’s eyes flicker halfway to Phil’s parents a few moments after his use of the word queer, then stop. Phil wishes they had continued, because they’re only smiling indulgently at the argument.

“Alright children, I think that’s quite enough,” Phil’s father contributes for the first time since the end of the show. “Dan clearly needs some time to progress this devastating derailing of Eurovision spirit, which we can all give him as we clear up the snacks, hm?”

“Thank you, Nigel,” Dan nods seriously. “I’ll just sit here and process, the winner can clear up in good grace.”

“Good grace?” Martyn snorts. “You have met Cornelia before, yeah?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” she says airily. “I can certainly help out if the poor baby losers are too emotionally traumatised.”

“Good grace,” Martyn mutters, rolling his eyes but climbing to his feet to help.

“Oh, suddenly I’m also too emotionally traumatised to help clear up,” Phil attempts, turning the corners of his mouth down in the best frown he can muster.

“It’s the bullying,” Dan says.

“Phillip Lester I can see the twitch in your lips from here,” his mum says - standing with her back to him, which Phil hardly thinks is fair. “You can help the others with the tidying. We mustn’t be too mean to poor Dan or he might never come back.”

Dan nods as mournfully as he can manage once Phil’s mum has turned around, so Phil coughs down his laugh. “Sure, mum,” he agrees dutifully.

“I can see the twitch in Dan’s jawline from here!” Cornelia exclaims. “He’s as close to laughter as anything.”

“Good grace, babe,” Martyn mutters, putting his hands on her shoulders.

“Ah, of course,” Phil’s mum raises an eyebrow. “That’s what I was seeing, I knew there was something. You wouldn’t be shirking family duty would you Daniel?”

“Me?” Dan widens his eyes. “Never, there’s nothing as important. ...except maybe getting Phil back for all the unpacking he refused to do.”

“Phil?” Phil’s mum is raising as eyebrow at him now, as he splutters.

“Hey!” Phil objects. “I’m your child, he’s being lazy right now, you should be on my side!”

“There’s equal love in this family-” his mum says calmly, pausing pointedly “-for all those who do their part.”

“Potentially also extra ice cream,” Phil’s dad adds, coming back from putting away his first armful of snacks.

“That doesn’t work now, dad, we can just buy our own,” Martyn points out - and yet within a few seconds of their parents letting the silence sit everyone is on their feet, grabbing mugs or plates, putting rubbish in the bin. 

“Good children,” Phil’s mum praises, sitting back in her seat as the four of them clear everything without her having to lift a finger.

“Wait a minute...” Phil says slowly, suddenly recognising this scene from his childhood. 

“Mum!” he protests, in perfect unison with Martyn, an echo of so many holidays past - with the simple addition of a couple of new voices laughing delightedly in the background.

**Author's Note:**

> this fic was originally meant to be a series of snapshots from their holiday so maybe the rest will follow?
> 
> you can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/nymeriahale) and [tumblr](http://internetakeover.tumblr.com)!


End file.
